


30 Kisses

by turps



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:10:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Trickc day</p>
            </blockquote>





	30 Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ephemera, autumnyte and msktrnanny for beta reading.

**1.look over here**

She tastes of mint, cool yet warm, moaning against his mouth, her nails scratching across his back, her body plastered against his own. JC’s hands tangle in her hair, silken strands sliding across his fingers as he splays his hand, running his thumb over golden skin and the slippery fabric of the dress that cling to her perfect curves. 

Unconcerned with the people that surround them, JC presses against her, aroused and needing. Breathing into her neck as her hands move, teasing with low words and touch, until JC grabs for her hand, steering her from the room. 

Chris winks when they pass him, mouth quirked in a smile as he slips back into the crowd. JC watches him go, and even as he leaves, he wants to follow. He doesn’t. Instead he grips her hand tighter, needing to lose himself in someone that does see him, soothing the ache of the one that never does. 

~*~*~*~ 

**2\. news; letter**

“You had to be different didn’t you?” Knuckles white around his cell, Chris paced, footsteps squeaking against the tiled floor. “You couldn’t have called or told me in person? Instead I get a letter. A fucking letter, JC. Is that all our relationship boils down to, a few words on a page?” 

Snatching up the offending paper, Chris quickly scanned the words once more : _not working….I love you but….give me some time….I’m sorry._ “You’re sorry. Well I’m sorry too, sorry that I ever said yes.” 

Closing the connection before the beep, Chris let the letter slip to the floor. The lie turning to ashes in his mouth as he remembered JC leaving the bedroom so many hours before, kiss awkward and expression shuttered as he walked out the door. 

~*~*~*~ 

**3\. jolt!**

Half past midnight and Lynn sits in yet another uncomfortable plastic chair. She’s trying to read, but exhaustion drags at her body and the words dance past her eyes, taking on choreography of their own. She closes the book before the O’s start flipping the P’s. 

Plucking her purse from the tangle of bags at her feet, she dry swallows two Tylenol, headache spiking when Justin runs past, wild-eyed and laughing with Joey right behind. She lets them pass without comment, knowing they need to blow off steam. They all do, too much travelling leaving them all crawling inside their own skin. 

Lynn wants some of their energy, a small jolt to keep her awake as she yawns behind her hand. Instead she drinks more lukewarm coffee and watches as Joey holds his camera and captures her son pirouetting as Lance applauds. Races are run, shoes squeaking across the floor. Pixi-stixs are eaten, laughter getting more and more sugar fuelled and loud, and Chris kisses JC with green stained lips. 

Energy surrounds them, cracking through the air, and Lynn lets it settle around her, picking up her book once more. 

~*~*~*~ 

**4\. our distance and that person**

Hesitating in the doorway, Lance looks around. It’s been too long since they’ve been together like this, and he feels as awkward as he did ten years before, when everything was new and all he wanted to do was run home. 

Now he knows them all, loves every single one of them, but they feel distant somehow, out of his reach after being apart so long. 

“You waiting for an engraved invitation or something? Because Joey’s cheap and didn’t get you one, so get your ass in here already.” Curled in the corner of the couch, his legs resting over JC’s knees, Chris takes a handful of popcorn, throwing it in Lance’s direction. 

“You’d better be picking that up, Kirkpatrick.” Lounging on the floor, his back against the couch, Joey tips his head and leans back so he can look Chris in the eye. “Kelly’ll kick my ass if this place is a mess.” 

“You’re whipped.” Justin grins, holding up his hands against the popcorn Joey throws his way. 

“Like you’re not, Mr Diaz.” Stretching, Chris scrubs his hand over Justin’s short hair. “I bet you wake her each morning with a kiss then make heart-shaped pancakes.” 

“Maybe, or I could make her coffee every morning and take it to her in bed.” Climbing over Joey’s legs, Justin rests his arms on the couch, matching Chris’ glare with a wide grin. “I mean, that’s what good boyfriends do right?” 

“You told him?” Chris looks at JC. 

“Yep.” JC is unconcerned, shrugging as he rests his hand on Chris leg and casually traces his tattoo. “Scoot over a little so Lance can sit down.” 

Grumbling, Chris moves with JC so there’s a small space on the end of the couch, patting the gap as he kisses JC, a fleeting touch of lips against cheek. Eyeing the space, Lance wonders if he’ll even fit in, especially when Justin is lying on the floor, head resting on Joey’s lap as they feed each other chips, more falling on the floor than in their mouths. 

Once Lance would’ve squeezed into that space without a second thought, but that was then, before he learned to exist without them by his side and the ache of missing them was finally packed away. 

“You’ve got five seconds before I take your seat.” Justin looks up at Lance and points a chip in his direction. “One…” 

Easy chairs flank the couch and Lance glances at them. Imagines sitting without elbows jammed in his side and someone tugging at his toes. Able to sprawl with all the room he needs. 

“Don’t you dare.” Hurrying forward, Lance drops into the small space, relaxing as he’s instantly drawn in. JC’s hip sharp in his side, Chris’ feet in his lap, Justin and Joey crowding his legs. It’s hot, constricted, and exactly where Lance wants to be. 

~*~*~*~ 

**5\. "ano sa" ("hey, you know....")**

Being with them is hard. 

Every day you’re reminded of how things have changed, the tiniest shift just barely there. You still do the same things in the same place at the same time, but they’re different. Familiarity bent into sharp spikes that catch at your skin. 

You still play computer games, Chris solid and warm at your side as he laughs at your mistakes and explains away his own with, _you know I meant to do that._. He drinks from your glass and wipes sticky lips with the back of his hand. You watch TV together, legs tangled and volume low, blanketed in darkness as the bus travels ever onwards. 

You’ve loved him for years now, relaxed in his presence, drawn to him like a flower facing the sun. He’s your best friend, your confidant, your playmate, and you thought he’d always be there. 

You never expected to look up one day and see him watching JC. A glance and shared smile, fleeting touches and stolen kisses that changed it all. 

Nothing’s changed now, except everything has. 

~*~*~*~ 

**6 – The Space Between Dreams and Reality.**

Monsters swirl at the end of his vision. Huge. Dark. Screaming with rage. Hot, so hot. Hot hot hot. Flames flickering. Snapping in the air. 

It’s okay, I’m staying, not going anywhere. I’ve got you. 

Soft words, soothing, wrapping around the monsters, but they can’t push back the flames. They flare. Burning, leaving behind words blackened and twisted. Get out. Now! More words, bad words. Words with spikes that snag and tear. Fear sharpens. Cold cold fear. 

Drink this, Lynn said it should help. 

Familiar warmth, the touch of hands against his back, a brush of fingers against his cheek. 

Go to sleep now. 

Humming, a kiss brushed against his cheek, all monsters held at bay as he finally sleeps. 

~*~*~*~ 

**7 – Superstar.**

JC had played stadiums ten times as big, faced crowds that stretched into the distance like a swaying sea. This was nothing, a small venue filled with fans who were already yelling his name, there was no need to be nervous at all. Except he was, stomach churning as he worried at his clothes, pulling at seams and picking at lint that wasn’t there. 

This was his time, his moment, but everything felt wrong. Like the universe had shifted slightly, leaving the echo of the past and memories of what once had been. 

JC had known he’d miss them, he’d just never known it would be this much. 

“You need to stop thinking.” 

Arms surround JC, leather bracelets and chunky rings that press against his stomach, familiar and comforting against his skin. 

“It’s just….” JC tried to explain, but the words aren’t there, are trapped behind fluttering nerves. 

“I know.” Chris squeezed hard, his face pressed against JC’s back, steadying with kisses that can’t be seen. 

“Time to go.” Someone yelled, and JC’s heart galloped, thundering in his ears. 

“You’re going to be great,” Chris said, and he broke the hug so he could look at JC. “Go slay them, superstar.” 

~*~*~*~ 

**8\. our own world**

They live in a world that glitters and gleams, shining for the cameras, glossy and beautiful, always performing with a smile. 

It’s what they do, what they’ve strived to achieve. The payoff for years of exhaustion, sacrifice, and real life kissed goodbye. 

~*~*~*~ 

**9 – Dash.**

“You’re kidding, right?” JC looks at Chris, dismay heavy in his stomach. “I can’t do that.” 

“Rules are rules, C.” Chris lets his controller fall to the floor, eyes gleaming in the light of the TV. “You said, and I quote, if I lose you can do what you like to me.” 

“Yeah, I said that, but I thought, I mean.” Fingers twisted in his hair, JC sighs, resigned. “I can’t run naked down the corridor, pick something else” 

Laughter bubbling inside, Chris considers, head tilted to one side. “Nope, no way. It’s not like there’d be anyone out there this time of the morning, and even if there is, the crew have seen it before.” He stands, holding out his hand. “Come on.” 

Pulling himself up, JC glares and pulls his dignity around him, kicking his boxers to the floor. “I’ll remember this you know.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Waving his hand, Chris opens the door, stepping aside and pressing a kiss to JC’s bare shoulder. “Next time, just tell me you want to bottom.” 

JC doesn’t reply, just looks both ways before running away, bare feet thumping against the floor. 

~*~*~*~ 

**10\. #10**

“Save me from the bedazzled curl monster!” 

JC sighs and opens his eyes when he hears the shout. Sitting up, he stretches, back and shoulders clicking satisfactorily into place, bracing himself when the door opens with a crash. 

Within seconds Chris vaults over the back of the couch, ducking down and quivering with muffled laughter as Justin runs into the room. 

“That’s the lamest hiding place yet,” Justin says, and he slowly approaches, his exaggerated frown doing little to disguise the upward twist of his mouth and the threatened laughter. 

“I don’t need to hide, JC will protect me from your kisses of evil.” Chris leans in, his breath hot against JC’s skin. “You’ll save me won’t you?” 

JC pretends to consider, pushing down a smile as Chris’s eyelashes flutter against his neck. “I don’t know, you did eat that last peach.” 

“That was a mistake, it fell in my mouth.” 

“And you had to eat it?” 

“Exactly!” Chris grins wide, his hands warm against JC’s shoulders. “I’ll buy you another one.” 

“I’ll buy you ten.” Justin looks from JC to Chris, body tensed to move. 

It’s not a hard choice. “You’re on your own,” JC says, rolling aside as Justin pounces. Yells and laughter echo through the corridors as the chase moves once more. 

~*~*~*~ 

**11\. gardenia**

“Here, pink boy.” Chris runs up to JC, a pale gardenia clasped in one hand. “Figured it would match your outfit.” He grins, teeth flashing white and eyes sparkling as he slips it behind JC’s ear before running out the room with an exaggerated blown kiss. 

~*~*~*~ 

**12\. in a good mood**

Chris loves parties. Where the energy flows through his body and the music plays with a bone deep beat. He loves the crush of men and women, the heat as they dance under flashing lights, unstructured and free. He loves the easy kisses and casual touches as he talks to friends, drinks at hand as the hours gallop by. 

Most of all he loves the freedom to be who he really is, JC’s hand against his back as they step into the darkness of the night. 

~*~*~*~ 

**13\. excessive chain**

“You have to taste this.” Cheeks flushed and grinning, JC holds up a glass, clear liquid slopping over the side. “It’s called a Southern Kiss, so Justin or Lance should try it really, but you’ll do.” 

Chris takes the glass and takes a sip, blinking at the burn. “Jesus, C. You could strip paint with this.” Taking another sip, he watches as JC licks at his wrist, tongue slowly sliding over his own skin. “How many have you had anyway?” 

JC stops licking, looks at Chris with wide-open eyes. “Three, four. I don’t know.” He waves his hands, barely missing scattering a bowl of nuts across the floor. “They taste good.” 

“They do,” Chris agrees, and he sets down the glass before wrapping his arm around JC’s waist, holding him steady. “I’ll remind you of that tomorrow, but for now, bed.” 

“I’m tired?” JC asks, a staggering limpet of a man, fingers digging into Chris’ arm. 

“You are,” Chris says, steering them both toward the door. 

~*~*~*~ 

**14\. radio-cassette player**

Hissing music filled the room when Chris pressed play. Cross-legged on the floor, he watched the tape turn, transported to a time when this player was the most expensive thing he owned, a precious birthday gift that he’d treasured for years. 

“Did you ever tape things off the radio?” Chris asked. He looked up as JC nodded and entered the room.“I did, had cassettes full of songs I listened to over and over. They helped; sometimes.” 

Silently, JC walked through the boxes unpacked on the floor, sitting in a clear space as Chris looked at the handful of cassettes in his lap. He sorted through them, touch gentle as if greeting old friends. 

JC wanted to ask questions, how did they help? Why did you need them? But he didn’t, let himself be content with the information that Chris had slipped free. 

Chris blinked and clicked off the music, pulled back into the present when JC leaned forward with a kiss. “What was that for?” 

“Just because,” JC said, carefully packing away the cassettes as Chris ducked his head and smiled. 

~*~*~*~ 

**15\. perfect blue**

“Listen to this.” Justin looks up from the magazine spread open on his lap, making sure of their attention before reading aloud. “With his toned body and perfect blue eyes, JC is the heartthrob of the group. Let’s face it ladies, who wouldn’t want a kiss from this man? The line forms behind me.” 

Laughter fills the room as JC runs his fingers through his hair while batting his eyes. “What can I say? Some of us just have it.” He grins then, crinkle eyed and toothy as Joey jumps to his feet, hands pressed to his mouth. 

“Oh my god! It’s JC! I must get in the line to kiss him!” The perfect fanboy, Joey vibrates with excitement, voice shrill as he grabs Lance, pulling him to his feet. “Look Lance! It’s JC! Get behind me so you can kiss him!” 

Lance allows himself to be pulled to his feet, eyes wide as he looks from Joey to JC. “It’s JC Chasez, he’s so dreamy! Have you seen his perfect blue eyes?” Laughter threads through his words as JC preens, tossing his head and pouting, making Joey fan at his face and scream. 

In perfect sync, Chris and Justin look at each other. “It’s JC Chasez!” They scramble to their feet and join the line, vibrating with excitement as they clutch at one another, screeching as Joey bends forward to kiss JC, a quick smack of his lips against an offered cheek. 

Joey staggers to the couch after, collapsing down as Lance takes a kiss too, his _I love you, JC!_ a perfect, if deep, imitation of the words they hear every day. 

Justin’s kiss is brief, his hands against JC’s shoulders as they touch lips, grinning against one another until Justin steps back, letting Chris take his place. 

“Perfect blue eyes, eh?” 

JC takes hold of Chris’ wrist, fingers wrapping around cold metal and leather, and tugs until they’re eye to eye. “I always preferred brown myself.” He slides his fingers into Chris’ hair, flattening spikes as he touches his lips to Chris’, tasting waxy lip balm as he flicks out his tongue, licking quickly into wet heat before pulling back, a chorus of cat calls and laughter ringing in his ears. 

~*~*~*~ 

**16\. invincible; unrivaled**

“I used to think I was invincible.” The words are frail, fracturing in the air. 

JC hates the sound of them, automatically remembers pure notes even as he leans forward, struggling to hear each painful sound. “We all did.” He rubs his wrist, bent fingers carefully kneading joints that always ache. “We were stupid back then.” 

“Yeah,” Chris says, his eyes brimming with laughter and defiance, even as he lies propped against a mountain of pillows and struggles to breathe. 

Slowly, each movement an effort, JC stands. He grips his canes tightly, fingers tight around the wood, and knees trembling, sits on the bed, pulling up his legs and stealing a kiss as they lie close. Mouth quirked at one side, Chris watches, and JC can see a lifetime of memories in his gaze. 

JC wants to examine each one, hold it in his hands and remember, bad times and good, each one bound with friendship and love. But he can’t, because Chris isn’t invincible and time never waits, however much you pray. 

~*~*~*~ 

**17 -- kHz (kilohertz)**

“Did I wake you?” JC asks when the door opens, spilling light into the room. He reaches for the remote, pressing buttons until the TV becomes nothing but a background blurr of noise. 

Chris hides a yawn behind his hand and shrugs, rumpled and heavy-eyed with sleep. He stumbles across to the couch, baggy grey shorts twisted and feet bare, then flops down, kissing JC’s bare shoulder with a fleeting tease of heat that’s gone within seconds. “What’cha’ watching?” Chris asks, words rough and wrapped in another yawn. 

JC looks at the screen, blinking and rubbing at his dry eyes as he pushes aside quicksilver thoughts of sales and promotion. Chart positions and numbers that invade in the dead of night. “It’s a rerun of Mutant X.” He shifts a little and watches something onscreen explode in a shower of sparks. “That guy, Kilohertz, wants to take over the world. Or something.” He trails off, attention caught by the shadows that creep and dart over Chris’ skin, dancing in sync to the action on screen. 

“Sounds good,” Chris says. He rests his head against JC’s shoulder, a long familiar mix of scratchy stubble, soft hair and warm breath. His body comfortably heavy as they easily curl together, pretending to watch TV as JC remembers how to breathe. 

~*~*~*~ 

**18\. "say ahh...."**

Chris closes his mouth with a snap of teeth and a scowl, arms crossed as the doctor sets down the tongue depressor and pulls off his gloves. 

“He can’t talk at all?” JC questions, laughter seeping into his tone. 

“For the next day at least, I’ll check again tomorrow, but for now make sure he takes his medicine and stays quiet.” 

Wanting to announce that he is here and talk to him not JC goddamnit. Chris glares daggers at JC as he walks the doctor to the door. Just thinking of being forced into silence makes his head hurt more, a constant thumping pain as he imagines no teasing or chattering, no _anything_. 

Not that he wants to talk right now, not when his throat feels like fire and each word scratches like wire. It’s just, the principle of the thing, that’s all. 

“It won’t be long,” JC says, sympathetic despite the humour that still lingers in his eyes. “You’ll be better in no time.” He leans forward, lips cool against Chris’ cheek. “Especially if I kiss you better.” 

~*~*~*~ 

**19\. red**

They’ve been travelling for days now. Heading always onwards, get in the car and go. No maps, no routes, nothing but the open road. 

The car feels like a prison, red leather molding to JC’s body as he eases in each day. Hair damp, he slides inside, knees against the dash, sweat already prickling as the sun blazes, the sun kissing his body with a savage heat as he leans against hot metal and glass, preparing to set off once more. 

Silence stretches as endlessly as the road, the burr of wheels, Chris’ breathing mixing with his own. Tiny fragments of noise when there should be more. Music and laughter, casual words that slice through the air. 

There’s nothing. Tires and breathing and JC wants to fracture the silence, shatter it with his screams. 

He doesn’t. He can’t. 

~*~*~*~ 

**20\. the road home**

“Will you shut up?!” 

Justin looks over the back of the seat, mouth a thin line and eyes narrowed. “Why should I?” 

“Because if you don’t I’m going to make you shut up.” It’s not an idle threat, JC can feel the anger thrumming under his skin and clenches his fists, nails digging painfully as he fights the urge to lash out.. 

Eyes widening, Justin drops back in his seat as the bus finally falls silent, the tension almost tangible as they travel through the night. 

Head pounding, JC curls awkwardly in his seat, comfort hours past now as his body aches more with each passing mile. All he wants to do is sleep, sink into a bed, and not move for days, but that’s impossible. Instead he watches the road, staring into the darkness and tries not to see his own reflection and the reminder of how tired he really is. 

They’re driving along some highway, another unknown road in an unknown county and all JC wants is to go home. He wants to kiss his mom and hug his dad, eat familiar food and watch TV without struggling to translate every word. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love what they do, he does, and would never change a thing. It’s just sometimes, like today, when time seems to stretch endlessly and irritation bubbles inside, all he wants to do is go home, however childish that may be. 

“Hey, tough guy.” 

JC doesn’t look away from the window as Chris sits down, just watches the lights flash by, over and over and over again. 

“I think you scared J’s curls straight.” Chris says, dark strands sliding through his fingers as he pushes back his hair with an impatient gesture. “I figured I’d come sit with you, Joey’s been drooling on my shoulder for the last ten miles.” 

Obviously not caring about any protests, he squirms in his seat, tucking up his legs and taking up far too much room for someone so small. JC thinks of objecting, but he doesn’t. It’s hard to object when Chris is plastered against him, body warm and familiar, his own piece of home. 

~*~*~*~ 

**21\. violence; pillage/plunder; extortion**

“Kiss your money goodbye, loser.” Lance flipped over his cards, fanning them onto the table with a practiced flick of his wrist. He smiled, all gums and sharp white teeth, confidence shining high. 

JC frowned as he examined Lance’s hand. “Double or nothing?” He dropped his cards onto Lance’s, sweeping them together, then shuffled, fingers sliding the cards with awkward movements. . 

“Have you even got any money left to bet?” Folded up on a chair, Chris hooked his arms around his knees, watching as JC fumbled, letting cards slide to the floor. “This is extortion, you’re getting creamed.” 

“My luck’s going to change, I know it.” JC stacked the cards and opened his wallet, staring inside. Eyes wide, he looked at Chris. “I’ve got no money left.” 

“Because you’ve lost it all to the card shark there,” Chris said, mouth twitching into a smile as Lance gathered all the cards, shuffling them with a display born of far too many hours spent bored and travelling. 

“Can you…I mean, I’ll pay you back.” 

“You’re never going to win.” Chris let his feet drop to the floor, ignoring JC’s pleading stare. “I might as well give my money to Bass now.” 

“Please.” 

Chris pulled out his wallet with a sigh. “You owe me, big time.” 

Warmed by JC’s smile, he handed over the money and settled back in his chair, ready to watch JC lose once more. 

~*~*~*~ 

**22 – Cradle.**

“Why? That’s all I want, one good reason why not.” Justin keeps the words low, control kicking in when he wants to kick at the floor and cry. 

Chris doesn’t answer at first, waits for painful seconds as the walls seems to move inwards, forcing all oxygen from the room. 

“Because you’re a kid and I’m no cradle robber, that why.” 

“I’m a kid? That’s the best you can do?” Cracks creep through any control, huge and jagged as Justin clenches his hands, nails biting into his palms. “I’m not a kid, never have been.” 

“You are to me.” 

Stomach lurching, Justin hurries to the door, needing to get away. He knows Chris, knows those few quiet words are rock solid and will always block his dream. 

Fumbling with the key to his room, he finally gets inside. It hurts to be turned down, hurts to have his kiss turned away, but if Justin is honest it hurts the most to know JC has something Justin never can. 

Sitting on his bed, fingers pressed against his lips as he remembers sharp stubble and shocked eyes; Justin thinks maybe he’s a kid after all. 

~*~*~*~ 

**23\. candy**

“I’ve bought you something.” JC pulls back the bunk’s curtain, grinning as he holds something in the air. 

Squinting in the sudden light, Chris turns on his side, head propped on his hand as he yawns wide. “You woke me up for candy?” 

“Not just candy, Hershey’s Kisses. I thought we could share.” Movements deliberate, JC tears open the packet then puts his hand against Chris’ chest, pushing hard so he topples back down. “Lie still.” 

Carefully, JC snaps off each piece, holding them between his fingers as Chris fights for stillness. To remain motionless as each tiny Kiss is placed on his skin, on his chest, his shoulders, the swell of his stomach, one impossibly balanced on his nose. 

“Now what?” Chris looks up, cross-eyed at the candy. 

“Now we share.” Hand splayed on Chris’ hip, JC leans forward, hair tickling as he sucks the candy off Chris’ nose. Hot and wet, it feels weird, and Chris slides his hands up JC’s shirt, movements careful as he rests his hands against warm skin, fingers digging in when JC moves downward. His kisses tasting of chocolate as he shows Chris how to share. 

~*~*~*~ 

**24\. good night**

JC stands with his hand on the door handle. It’s cool under his fingers and he grips hard as Chris steps closer, his hand hovering over JC’s. This close he smells of smoke and rain, the night clinging as he shakes his head, dark braids clinging to his skin. 

Chris’ eyes seem huge, dark and liquid as he licks his lips, a dart of tongue and flash of silver, and all JC can do is hold on, fingers white as Chris crowds him against the wall, hand warm against JC’s face as he kisses him goodnight. 

~*~*~*~ 

**25 – Fence.**

“There’s another one, and another.” Justin presses against the window of the bus, hands and nose resting against the glass as he counts. “That’s twenty-one.” He turns, eyes shining as he grins wide, a barely suppressed ball of excitement that feeds on each new sign. 

“Have you seen that one?” Joey laughs, pointing at a girl standing against the low fence, a lurid pink sign covered in hearts and glitter held high above her head. “What’s your answer, Lance? Is she the future Mrs Bass?” 

“I doubt it.” Lance leans forward and waves, grinning as the girl shrieks his name. “She’s not my type, you know that.” He sits back in his seat, smiling at the fans who yell strange words made familiar by repetition. _Ich liebe Dich, Lance. Ich liebe Dich, JC_. A jumble of sound that surrounds their names. 

“I like that one myself.” Absorbed in the scene outside, JC jumps when Chris sits next to him, all crackling energy and movement as he leans forward until they’re almost cheek-to-cheek. “I always knew our fans had taste.” 

Chris kisses JC’s cheek, so fleeting that JC could almost think it was accidental, except Chris winks as he moves seats yet again, leaving JC with his fingers resting against his face and the memory of a sign saying, _Kisses for JC_. 

~*~*~*~ 

**26\. if only I could make you mine**

Chris is used to working for what he needs. Money and fame earned through determination and hard work, never giving up - ever. 

He has total control over his own life, does what he wants, when he wants, and loves it that way. Prepared to do anything to achieve his dreams. 

Except when he watches Justin’s hands in JC’s hair, mouths pressed together and lost in their own world, he knows that JC’s one thing he can never achieve. 

Because as much as he loves JC, he loves Justin too, and that means stepping away as this dream slips crumbles. 

~*~*~*~ 

**27\. overflow**

Bubbles bump against JC’s chest, tiny popping rainbows of colour, shimmering under the light. He leans forward, chin resting on Chris’ shoulder, and scatters kisses against wet skin, stubble rough against JC’s lips as he holds Chris close, uncaring of the water that flows to the floor. 

~*~*~*~ 

**28\. Wada Calcium CD3**

“I’m fine.” Chris sits on the side of his bed, back curved as he rubs his knees. 

“Sure you are.” Ignoring Chris’ frown, JC keeps looking through his bag, gathering supplies. “Take off your pants.” 

“Woo, my luck’s in tonight!” 

Even looking away JC can feel the leer and he wiggles his ass a little to tease. “If you’re a good boy and do as you’re told.” He looks over his shoulder, smiling as Chris laughs, grin wide as he blows a kiss and drops his pants to the floor. 

“See, pants off. I’m good.” 

“You are,” JC agrees, handing over painkillers and supplements. “I’ll take these off then get you some water.” Fingers deftly loosening Velcro, JC unfastens the braces that surround Chris’ knees, gently running his fingers over the red lines that circle the swollen skin. “That okay?” 

“Yeah,” Chris says, and he rests his hand on JC’s. 

~*~*~*~ 

**29 the sound of waves**

Being inside the tunnel is like being in another world. A world where sharks swim overhead, water gleams and the sound of their songs still echo in the air. 

Palms pressed against cool acrylic, JC loses himself in that world, focussing on wavering fronds of seaweed and brightly coloured fish as reality fades away. 

“What you looking at?” 

JC blinks, pulling himself back to reality. “Nothing. Everything” He gestures vaguely, unable to convey the emotion inside, the sheer pleasure of singing in such a perfect place. “I’m glad we came.” 

Chris presses his hands against the tunnel and nods, his silence as intimate as any kiss. 

~*~*~*~ 

**30\. kiss**

Chris was all energy and sunshine. He shone like the sun on a summer’s day, and JC couldn’t keep away. He needed to touch; to feel. He leaned in, licked along dry lips as Chris opened for him, mouth parted, drawing JC down. Offering himself as JC explored, wet heat and sharp teeth, a touch of tongues pulling a moan from deep inside. 

Each touch was electric, thrumming through JC’s body as he clung on, hands gripping tight, their bodies pressed close, love and desire shown with every frantic touch.


End file.
